


pas de deux

by 852_Prospect_Archivist



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: First Times, M/M, h/c
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-11 09:41:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,809
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/796813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/852_Prospect_Archivist/pseuds/852_Prospect_Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim has an abnormality that Blair finds fascinating.</p>
            </blockquote>





	pas de deux

## pas de deux

#### by Knot

  
  
  
  


* * *

Blair checked the paper in his hand one more time before taking the front steps of the small, white house. It was definitely a woman's home, green shutters stenciled with some type of simple design and an oversized froufrou wreath on the front door. 

Normally, Carolyn would be the last person he'd visit, but he was in San Francisco for the weekend and he'd had called in advance to let her know he was coming. Jim's fortieth birthday was coming up, and Blair wanted some old pictures of Jim to blow up for the massive party that he was planning. He hoped to find one from when Jim had had a mustache...he'd heard about it but just couldn't picture Jim with facial hair. 

He knocked twice on the door and tried the doorbell, but she didn't answer. Thinking that he heard voices in the back, Blair took the sidewalk around to the back of the house. Carolyn's voice floated over the tall wooden fence, and he was about to open the gate, not at all going to eavesdrop because obviously she was on the phone, but then Jim's name was mentioned, there was a giggle, and he froze. 

Carolyn was talking about Jim. 

Eavesdropping was not right, not even Jim indulged in it with those senses of his, but this was different...strange and forbidden. Carolyn was Jim's ex-wife and Blair was suddenly dying to hear what she had to say about him. 

"When I left, he was dating some District Attorney, but it didn't last. I've heard through the grapevine about a few flings that he's had, but honestly, Susan, I don't know how serious they could be. What with his..." she trailed off into a decidedly un-girlish giggle, and Blair's eyes widened in protest to the curtailed sentence. With his _what_? What had she been about to say? 

"Oh, oh I know. Don't get me wrong," she interrupted her friend. "I mean, who's going to complain about a man with two dicks, right? But when push comes to shove, an extra penis doesn't make up for a lack of communication, am I right? Besides," she sighed. "Sometimes I think that a man with no dick at all is my idea of Mr. Right." 

Thankfully, Blair's hand found it's way to his mouth to stifle the laughter that immediately sought a way out. Two dicks, what the hell was that supposed to mean? Jim didn't have... 

There was just no way that Jim had two dicks. After all, they were roommates and he would've noticed such a thing. Except... He frowned, oblivious to the rest of Carolyn's chatter. 

He thought back, over four years of sharing a loft, a bathroom, too many hotel rooms and tents to count. Images flashed through his mind: Jim in a towel, Jim in his underwear. Jim leaning out of the shower, his lower torso hidden behind the shower curtain. Jim in shorts, Jim in a robe. Jim's naked, retreating ass but never, ever full frontal nudity. 

Had Jim ever seen _him_ naked? Sure. Not that Blair flaunted himself or anything like that. After all, if you live with the perfectly sculpted physique that was James Ellison, you didn't go around naked all that often. Anyone would suffer by comparison. 

The possibility began to take root in Blair's mind, growing and shaping itself into something resembling reality. So, Jim had two dicks. Once, he'd dated a girl with an extra toe. And in college, there was a guy in one of the dorms who'd had something resembling a tail. He'd never seen it, but had heard plenty of stories. 

Taking no time to regroup, Blair fumbled with the complicated gate handle and swung it open noisily. The backyard was as custom fit to Carolyn's personality as the house. A yard swing with canopy, immaculate flowerbed, and teal patio furniture decorated the yard, and Carolyn looked up with startled, guilty eyes from the phone. 

"I've got company, Sue. Got to run. Okay, bye." She pushed the off button and turned to Blair, a polite smile plastered on her face. She'd been letting her hair grow, and the shoulder length hair curled up in a flip, threaded with blond highlights. "Blair, hi. How are you?" 

"I'm good. You look good, Carolyn. How's San Francisco?" 

Of course they had had this exact conversation on the phone earlier, but for whatever reason, his relationship with Carolyn had always felt strained and tenuous. He would walk the tightrope of niceties for the sake of getting his pictures for the party. 

"So..." she handed him the pictures, all ready to go in a cardboard keepsake box, and stepped back, looking him over. "You and Jim are still roommates?" 

"Yeah. Maybe you've heard that I'm a detective now. So we're partners, too." 

She hadn't heard, and the shock on her face was tinged with disbelief. But what came out of her mouth was, "Congratulations." After a pause during which he nodded his thanks, she ruefully confessed, "You know, I kept waiting for the day that Jim would call me up and just rant about how much you're getting on his nerves...and wanting my advice on how to get rid of you." 

"Well, I do get on his nerves," Blair admitted. "And he gets on mine. But we're both committed to our partnership." 

She nodded and looked around, for an escape, probably, which Blair happily gave her. "I guess I'd better get going. Long drive back to Cascade." 

She walked him around to the front and was met with another surprise. 

"He let you bring his truck?" 

"I didn't want to, but he insisted." he said sheepishly, unable to keep the pleased grin off of his face. It had felt good when Jim had shoved the keys in his hand, and he didn't care if she knew it. 

"Have fun at the party. Say hi to everyone for me." 

He said some of the same inane parting things and climbed in the truck, anxious to get on the road and think about what he'd just overheard. 

* * *

And think about it he did. As he lay in bed that night, he could think of nothing else. 

Two dicks. 

As a man, Blair had wished for many things. A bigger dick. The ability to _suck_ his own dick. Multiple orgasms. But here was something that he'd never even contemplated, dick-wise. 

God, what could you _do_ with two dicks. He composed a list as the images flashed in his mind, which had predictable results on his own dick, which apparently liked the idea of being involved in that type of odd threesome. 

He thought about Jim's strong, healthy body. It was just so flawless and beautiful... could Carolyn have meant what she said? 

Perhaps it had been some type of metaphor. 

Blair groaned and turned over, punching his pillow in self-disgust, but the first rays of morning found him still dwelling on the issue, holding it and turning it meticulously over and over. He gave up on sleep and stumbled blearily into the kitchen in search of caffeine. 

"Hey, did you have a good trip?" Jim was already up, making coffee and trying to shake off his own sleepiness. He glanced at Blair, licking his chapped morning lips, and everything seemed completely normal. 

"Uh, yeah." 

Maybe Carolyn had been fucking with his head. 

"Is something wrong?" 

"No, no." _Besides the fact that my roommate may or may not be literally twice the man that I am? Not a damn thing._ "I'm just tired. Too much driving." 

"How'd the truck do for you?" 

"Good." Blair blew on his cup of coffee, trying desperately to avoid looking. Because he knew how he was going to be with this. It was true that he tended to latch onto a subject and never let go, but this...he _had_ to know. 

He looked up suddenly, forgetting that the alarm in his eyes would be evident to Jim. But how could he have never considered this angle? Was this a Sentinel thing? 

"Blair, what is it?" Now he'd made Jim, who had put down the newspaper and was staring at him with concern, suspicious. 

"Nothing, I told you. I uh, thought that I forgot something, but it turned out that I didn't forget it after all." 

"Maybe you should go back to bed for a while." 

"No, I'm good." Blair took a gulp of too-hot coffee to prove himself, and then took off for the bathroom. "Even better after a shower," he muttered to himself. 

The shower gave him time to get himself together and start thinking of the situation rationally. So what if Jim had some sort of physical abnormality? He was still the most good looking, brave and intelligent person that Blair knew. 

Carolyn probably lied, anyhow. 

* * *

" _Sandburg_." 

"Yeah?" Blair looked away quickly, a guilty blush already staining his cheeks. 

Jim's scowl over the top of the newspaper was every bit as pissy as Blair expected it to be. "Is there some reason that you've been staring at my crotch for the past five minutes?" 

"I- no. I was just spacing out," he lied. 

"Well here's some advice: next time you space out, try not to fixate on another guy's package." 

"I'll keep that in mind." 

Jim lowered the newspaper to cover his lap. 

* * *

After that, Blair reluctantly shelved the issue, but it wasn't destined to stay shelved, because a few months later, the topic arose again, this time brought up by circumstance and dumb luck. Jim had been hurt during a bust and then kidnapped, beaten within an inch of his life and deposited in front of the PD. 

Once he'd been declared stable and recovering, the hospital had sent him home and Blair was there every step of the way, intent on caring for his friend. 

He could never seem to keep his eyes off Jim when he was injured, whether it was a black eye, swollen lip or the rows of tiny stitches that had been so frequent in their line of work. Physical hurt and Jim just didn't seem to go together. The bruises made the Sentinel look so damned vulnerable and...beautiful...that it stirred something inside Blair. Unable to decide whether or not he liked the feeling, he kept looking, intentionally stirring it up again and again. 

At the end of the second day, he approached Jim, who was resting on the couch. The injuries were beginning to fade in comparison to Jim's scruffy state, and Blair felt obligated to say, 

"Uh, do you think that today you might be up for a shower?" 

"No." 

"Well, no offense but they didn't bathe you in the hospital and you...you're _dirty_. You'll feel a lot better once you get washed up." 

"I can't, Sandburg. I get dizzy if I stand up for longer than it takes to use the bathroom." 

Blair rolled his eyes. "I know. What, you don't think I'm offering to help? That I'd just send you in there, in your condition to stand on that slippery tile by yourself?" He shook his head, amazed by his friend's stubbornness. "I don't think so." 

"Not right now." 

"Yes, now. Jim..." it wasn't as though Blair were stupid; the old issue of Jim's abnormality had been in the forefront of his mind the entire conversation, but the truth was that Jim was really starting to stink. "This isn't healthy. You need a shower and I'm here to help you." 

"Look, I said no." He seemed determined to have his way, but Blair saw the edginess in the averted yet transparent blue eyes. _Push me and you can have your way,_ it said. 

Blair sat himself on the edge of the coffee table and leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees. Ready to argue this to the end, he began slowly, "Look. I'm not sure what your reasons are for fighting me on this because I know you've got to feel nasty as hell right now. But if it's the aspect of being naked around me..." he trailed off, shrugging helplessly. 

"Jesus, Sandburg. Just forget about this jones you've got for getting me in the shower, because it isn't going to happen. End of discussion." But Jim was tired and sore and his fear was showing around the edges. Fear. Blair put a tentative hand on Jim's afghan-covered shoulder. 

"I know that you don't have a problem undressing around people, Jim. In the Army, at the gym...so help me out here. I can only assume that it's something about me, personally, that makes you uncomfortable." And he wasn't just spouting off at the mouth. These things were all true. Even if Jim had the worst kind of deformity, Blair felt that he should be the first person to know, the one that Jim went to. The one that Jim trusted. 

Instead, he'd found out from an overheard conversation. 

Jim didn't answer, just lay there stiffly, looking at the ceiling for a long while, until Blair sighed impatiently. 

"Don't you want to get clean?" 

No answer. 

Carefully gathering his words and forming them into as delicate ensembles as he could manage, Blair took a deep breath and said, "If you're worried about me seeing you naked, if there's something that you don't want me to see, then you should stop. Because we're friends and there should be a level of trust between us that ensures me accepting you without judgment. All of you." 

His words, meant to soothe, seemed only to alarm Jim, who flushed deeply and turned a suspicious eye on his partner. Blair could see him beginning to shake his head and suspended the action with, 

"I know, Jim, and I don't care. It's not a big deal." 

He half expected Jim to play dumb, to play this to the very end; after all, he'd done pretty well keeping himself hidden for five years. Jim's style was to deny or repress to the very end, but instead he shocked Blair by closing his eyes. Painfully, and with complete conviction, he argued, 

"It _is_ a big deal." 

He tried to calm the hammering of his heart, knowing that Jim could hear it and that it only supported Jim's claim that it was indeed a big deal. 

"How did you find out?" His voice was laced with dread and resignation, but the resistance was gone, his clenched fingers curled loosely around the afghan. "One of the guys told you," he decided dully. 

"No. Actually..." He hadn't considered that Jim might ask him how he came to find out. "Uh..." 

"Spit it out, Chief." 

"You're not gonna like my answer," he admitted, watching Jim slowly, painfully bring himself into an upright position. "It's Carolyn. When I was in San Francisco I went to get some things from her, those pictures from your party?" 

Jim nodded tightly. 

"And I overheard her on the phone. She wasn't...she wasn't saying anything rude Jim, or making fun of you, I swear. It sounded like she was just talking to a girlfriend who already knew about it and it was only for a second. It was wrong to eavesdrop, and I'm sorry." 

"Fine. Let's drop it." 

Drop it. Riiiight, as if that were an option. "Only if you let me help you with a shower." 

"Fine." 

Blair helped Jim to his feet and to the bathroom. Funny how Jim was the injured one, yet he felt tremors in his own legs and hands. He was going to get to see Jim, to see what he'd seen only in his imagination. 

He plugged the tub and turned on the hot water, which quickly warmed the air in the small room. Jim was just standing there, so he turned and said in what he hoped was a professional tone, 

"I think a bath would be better. That way you'll only need my help getting in and out, right?" 

Jim eyed the water and gave a reluctant nod before pulling his t-shirt over his head. Blair couldn't help making a sound of sympathy as he watched. Sympathy for the bruises scattered all over the smooth chest and shoulders, but most of all for the still too-new site where the doctors had closed his stab wounds. He'd been stabbed twice, once in his side and once in the thigh, and put through so much abuse that when they'd found him, Blair had thought him dead for one brief, terrifying second. 

Pulling his gaze from his partner's injuries, Blair realized that Jim was standing motionless, poised with his hands at the waistband of his sweats. Deliberating. 

"So, you think it's not a big deal?" he asked, with equal parts accusation and trepidation. 

"Well. I wouldn't say it's _no_ big deal. I'll admit that I've been pretty curious, Jim." 

Apparently that was what Jim had wanted to hear, or at least resembled what he wanted to hear enough that his graceful hands pushed the elastic down until his legs took over, kicking the pants to the side. 

And there he was. Blair carefully fixed his eyes on Jim's face and only his face. The miserable, blush-reddened face that seemed so unhappy that it broke his heart to look at, but still he kept his eyes up and away from what he _really_ wanted to see. 

Blair felt lightheaded all of a sudden, but smiled reassuringly and moved toward Jim, indicating that he was going to help him climb into the tub. Before he could put a steadying arm around his friend's waist, though, Jim stiffly said, 

"You can look, if you want to." 

"Wh...what?" 

Jim shrugged. "You said that you were curious, and you said yourself that it's just part of my body, so if you want to go ahead and get it over with..." 

Blair realized that Jim's misery stemmed partially from the fear and anticipation of what Blair would think or say. He probably figured that once Blair's curiosity was sated, then the worst would be over. 

"You really don't mind?" He had to make sure. 

"No. People can't help looking. Most of them don't say anything, not since school." 

He wanted to refuse, but was held captive by his own venerable fascination, so Blair let his gaze wander down past the soft skin of Jim's belly to the nicely shaped cock that hung lazily between his legs. It wouldn't have been anything to write home about if it hadn't been for the fact that next to it only two inches away was an exact replica, identical in size and coloring. He swallowed, hoping that Jim knew he was just nervous and not freaked out. 

It was true. The mysteries of Jim were still coming unraveled after five years together. No wonder Jim had so abhorred being called a freak by his father. By anyone. e had to make sure. The tragedy of it tore at him, because here was Jim, blessed with such unique, astonishing gifts and yet ashamed by them and forced to hide who he was. 

He didn't look away until Jim turned toward the tub, obviously uncomfortable with being ogled any further, and Blair tried to find his voice to stammer out an apology. 

"I-I'm sorry, Jim. I just. Thanks for letting me..." He caught himself looking downward again and forced himself to look instead into those light blue eyes, one of which was framed with enflamed, bruised skin. "Let's get you into the tub, okay?" Determined to convey his acceptance, Blair slid an arm around Jim's waist, tugging a finely muscled arm over his own shoulder. 

With only a few groans of pain, they got Jim into the tub and he set about cleaning himself immediately, rubbing up a thick lather with the honey-almond soap that Blair had left in the dish. 

"I'm used to it," he mused as he washed. "Sometimes it doesn't even seem weird to me. But other times it seems like this huge..." he shrugged and scrubbed the wet washcloth over his hair, sending eager streams of water trickling down his face and chest. 

"Like when?" Blair asked. He'd settled himself onto the counter; close enough to help if needed but far enough for Jim to own his personal space, which he suspected his friend needed right now. 

"When I start to get serious with someone that I'm seeing." 

He imagined Jim with a woman, wanting to be intimate but afraid to reveal himself, afraid of her reaction. It brought him low with shame; he'd always given Jim a hard time about his relationships and the whole time he'd been blind. Why had he been so quick to assume that Jim's relationship troubles were the fault of Jim's too-high standards and lack of communication? 

He didn't know what to say, so he ended up sitting dumbly and listening to the gentle splashing sounds until Jim finally announced that he was done. Then and only then did Blair even venture a look in that direction. Somehow, he helped his friend get dressed in clean boxers and up the stairs to his bedroom without asking or saying anything inappropriate. 

Jim reminded him of the first aid supplies they'd left in the bathroom, so he retrieved and applied them, so caught up in his thoughts the entire time that he remained silent. 

_Say something_ , he scolded himself when he realized what he had been doing, but strangely couldn't think of anything that wouldn't make Jim think that Blair wanted to talk about his dick...s. Which he did wish to talk about, until he realized the impropriety and clamped down on his tongue. The cycle repeated itself several times until he thought he might go mad with indecision. 

"I'll clean up downstairs," he blurted desperately, wondering why the words he wanted to say were not the ones coming out of his mouth. "So don't worry about anything. I'll bring you up some juice later if you want, with your pills." 

"Thanks," Jim replied, settling onto the big pile of pillows that Blair had arranged for him. He let Blair get as far as the staircase before bursting out angrily. 

"Why the hell did you push so goddamn much, Sandburg?" He demanded. "You said it was no big deal, sat there spouting all that bullshit about acceptance and now you won't even fucking look at me. You can barely talk to me, and when you do, it's not even _you_." 

Blair stopped, almost choosing the coward's way out and continuing down the stairs. Even with the incentive of avoiding Jim's anger and hurt feelings, he couldn't seem to find anything to say. So he stalled, slowly retreating back up the two stairs that he'd taken. 

"I...no. You're wrong, Jim." 

But Jim just looked at him with the bruises and the cuts and now, the hurt. It was enough to make Blair feel a huge wave of pity for anyone, but seeing that expression on his best friend drove Blair to spontaneous, foolhardy honesty. 

"It's not that," he blurted, trying to stop Jim from retreating even further behind his stone wall. "I just...I've known about it for a while, and finally seeing for myself...I didn't know it would be so...amazing," he pleaded carefully. 

"Oh, right. So fucking amazing, that's why women are lining up at my door. That's why Carolyn barely let me touch her when we were married." 

"Uh, Jim," Blair approached and sat on the edge of the bed. "I hate to tell you this, but Carolyn, uh. Let's just say that if you want to attract Carolyn, you would've been better off with no dicks at all, if you know what I mean." 

"Are you serious?" 

He thought about the conversation he'd overheard and nodded with confidence. "Yes, I'm for real, here. It was her, not you." 

It seemed like Jim believed him, but he still muttered, "Not _that_ real, Sandburg. I've seen you amazed before, and you can't shut up. I've seen you find _me_ amazing...and this isn't it." 

Blair caught his arm and held until Jim stopped staring at the ceiling. "I said that you are amazing, and I wasn't just talking about you...I was talking about your body. You can't see it because you haven't ever been with anyone who can truly appreciate your body the way it is." 

"Ahem, well." Jim cleared his throat and shifted with a little groan, reminding Blair that he needed his pain pills. "If it's all right with you, how about we discuss something other than my body, huh? Like, when you're gonna make me some of those sweet rolls you promised." 

He didn't want to discuss something else, he wanted Jim to take off his boxers again and let him look to his content, but that wasn't going to happen, so Blair sighed and mustered up a smile. "Oh, I don't think so. That was just bribery to get you to behave at the hospital," he teased. "In fact, I think that I heard the doctor say something about a rice and water diet..." 

"Sandburg," Jim growled, and that was the end of the conversation. Blair surrendered and went downstairs to cook because after all, he'd promised. 

* * *

"Did Alex know?" Blair figured he was safe because Jim was holding a plate of warm from the oven sweet rolls, which usually made him a pretty agreeable guy. 

"Know what?" 

"About...what's in your pants." 

It had been meant as a serious question, the answer terribly important to him, but when the words emerged, they struck as the utter inanities that they were. He covered his blushing face with a hand while Jim gasped with laughter on the bed. 

"Shut up," he grumbled, secretly pleased that Jim's mood had improved enough to joke around. 

"Gee, Sandburg," he finally said when his amusement had died down enough to speak. "I'm flattered that you're looking out for other people, when it comes to _what's in my pants_. But, no. Alex didn't know. Happy?" 

Silently, Blair nodded. Not exactly happy, but somehow relieved. 

* * *

"Hey, Jim." Blair nudged his friend and raised an eyebrow in the direction of an attractive brunette walking down the hall toward them. "When are you going to ask her out, man? She's been-" Jim clamped a heavy hand down on the back of Blair's neck just as the woman approached, halting Blair's speech and flashing his most charming smile at the same time. 

She smiled back, adjusting the files in her arms and passed them. When the clickety clack of her shoes had disappeared, Blair shoved him away, shaking his head. "Man, you're never gonna get a date that way if you've got your hands all over me, your partner, a _guy_ , when she walks past." 

"Shut up, Sandburg," he growled, but it was true. Jim and Cheryl from accounting had been flirting for months and even though Jim seemed interested, he still hadn't taken the final step and asked her out. 

"You know you want to," he teased, jumping away from his partner's attempt to get him into a headlock. "Go for it...you've got the goods." He gave Jim an appraising look and slipped into the crowded elevator so that all Jim could do was repeat, 

"Shut _up_." 

* * *

Jim did end up asking Cheryl-from-accounting out on a date and they hit it off as Blair knew they would. For the next three weeks he saw almost nothing of his partner when they were off-duty until the third Friday after they'd started dating, Jim came home and announced that they were through. 

Every time that Blair asked, "But _why_?" Jim told him that it was none of his business, which didn't make any sense to Blair because as far as he was concerned, everything about Jim was his business. It was beginning to drive him crazy, but Monday afternoon he finally stopped wondering why. 

He'd just come back from a robbery scene and was looking for Serena, but found, instead, Sam. 

"Hi," he said a little nervously, and waved the evidence bags. "Is, uh, Serena around?" Sam had a way of making him uncomfortable, partly because he couldn't ever tell when she was pissed off, and partly because she usually _was_ pissed off. 

"Nooo," she said with a smirk. Another thing was that she always seemed so damned amused, and gave the impression that he was the source of her amusement. "But come in, I'll take it." 

He stood by the edge of the door, as far as he dared around this temperamental beauty, and watched her pull on latex gloves. He had to step forward to give her the bags, then immediately returned to his position by the door. 

"So," she purred, squinting at the label that Blair had scrawled. "How's that roommate of yours?" 

"Jim? Uh, he's fine." Sam, interested in Jim? He doubted it. Jim's association with Blair, alone, was enough to keep her away. 

"So, is it true?" She asked, bringing some small bottles out from under the counter. "Does Ellison actually have a massive physical deformity?" 

"What!?" He'd been sucker punched; Sam's specialty. 

"Cheryl says-" 

His need to keep a distance disappeared, and he was at her side in an instant, cutting off whatever nasty remark she'd been preparing. "Listen to me," he hissed, "There is nothing wrong with Jim or any part of Jim. And I swear to God if you spread this rumor any further, I will tell _everyone_ what exactly is in your bottom dresser drawer. And not the thing you know I know about, but the other thing." 

For once, Sam didn't have to have the last word. 

Ever since their communication problems involving Alex Barnes, Blair had been going to Jim with any potential problems. He'd seen what could happen when one of them tried to fix things alone, and didn't take any risks, but this.. _this_ was a special case. Jim would be devastated, angry and hurt and closed off for months if he found out that a woman that he'd cared about had ridiculed his body to his co-workers. 

Determined to take action on his partner's behalf, Blair made his way through the halls of the PD feeling the clench of muscle, the throb of blood. It had been age since he'd been angry, really _furious_ like this and it felt almost good, the rage enormous and powerful inside him. 

And that was how he found himself in a small break room on the second floor, his face inches away from Cheryl's, a careful arm pinning her to the wall. Not hurting, oh no he would never hurt a _lady_ , not even a trashy specimen like Cheryl, but she was afraid, and the push of his arm against her gasping chest was satisfying. This woman had been allowed to touch Jim, to see him. Jim had trusted her with that. 

She had betrayed Jim. 

"Blair," she whimpered; a startled cry. 

She was scared. Good; he was scaring himself, too, with this inexplicable fury, but a little fear was nothing compared to the damage she'd done to Jim. "You've been saying some things about Jim and I don't care what you have to do to make the talk stop, but I want you to do it." 

"I..." she wanted to protest, but his grip tightened. She closed her eyes against the blaze of his eyes and the harsh flare of his nostrils dragging in quick, angry puffs of air. 

"You will make it stop, and if either Jim or me ever hear that you've been talking _shit_ about him, you'll be sorry." 

"It's none-" 

"-And don't say that it's none of my _business_." He had to stop, the blood was pounding in his head in a way that had to be unhealthy, and perhaps he was having a mental breakdown, but what better to have a breakdown over than Jim's penises? 

She tightened her jaw. "Women just do that," she argued in a small voice. "We like to talk about our dates...it didn't mean anything." 

"It means something to Jim!" He couldn't believe her carelessness with something as fragile as Jim's ego. But then again, other people didn't know Jim the way that he did. They just saw a hardass cop who didn't care what anyone thought. "Think, Cheryl. Jim has been like this his whole life. Think of how cruel people can be, and then tell me that it never occurred to you that he might be _sensitive_ about it." 

"I..." 

"How many women do you think he even _bothers_ getting close to?" Blair stepped back, shaking, and noticed that his fury had put Cheryl in the same condition. "Do you think that he just opens himself up to that humiliation with every woman he dates?" 

"No," she whispered. 

"No," he spat. "That's right. Don't ever talk about Jim again." 

Later, he did wonder why he had become so irrationally angry about something that was technically none of his business, angry to the point of having to wait an hour to return to Major Crimes in case Jim was there, but there was no real answer. Besides, Jim would do the same for him, he told himself. Still, as the afternoon wore on, he found himself drenched in a bath of guilt and remorse, as though he instead of Cheryl who had betrayed Jim. 

* * *

Jim didn't say anything, so Blair figured that somehow, by some miracle, he'd really accomplished something. Saved Jim's reputation and spared Jim's feelings in one act of aggression. Disaster averted by Blair Sandburg, Loyal Friend. And he had, sort of. 

A few days later, as he was chattering excitedly to Jim about the girl that he was taking out the following weekend, he mentioned that the girl had a friend, a cute friend, and Jim just froze. 

"I don't think so, Chief." 

"Why not?" 

He pretended to think, then ground out, as though Blair were to blame, "Maybe it has something to do with the fact that women find me _fucking_ repulsive." 

"Wha-at?" Blair croaked, touching Jim's shoulder, just curving his hand over the arc of his shirt and squeezing. "That's- that's not true. Women are hot for you." 

Jim shrugged off the hand. "What good is it to have women who are hot for me if I can't take them to bed?" 

A good question. Blair blinked and reinstated his hand on the soft cotton of Jim's shoulder. 

"If...if you were in love with someone," he said, ignoring the stutter of distress growing in his stomach, "I mean, if they were in love with you, then they wouldn't care how many dicks you had." 

"Well, alert the press," Jim said wryly, falling onto the couch in resignation. "I guess that true love has evaded me once again." 

"Not because of your, uh, dicks, though." 

"Are you kidding?" Jim raised his head to meet Blair in the eye for the first time since they'd begun talking. "I hate these fucking things. I hate every woman who draws back and gasps or giggle, I hate having to pretend that it's okay if she doesn't touch them in bed; avoids them like a dick is _contagious_ or something, and I hate-" 

He broke off, not because he'd run out of steam, but rather because he'd reached what seemed like the point of his tirade. 

"What, Jim? What do you hate?" Blair slid his hand down the shoulder, over a strong arm to cover Jim's own knotted hand. 

"Nothing," he shrugged, and tried to smile. "Just hate knowing I'm not going to get any, y'know?" 

Blair stared at him, long and deeply. Oh, Jim, he wanted to say, and lay a gentle kiss the creased forehead. But he couldn't, so he said, "You hate being lonely." 

For a second, Jim gave his honest reaction, his face transforming into a pain so sharp that Blair could feel it in his own chest, but the Sentinel had had too much practice in concealing his heart. 

"No." 

"Yes." Jim moved as though to go, but Blair was incapable of letting this be over. "Wait," he said, catching Jim's hand. "You don't have to worry about that happening, it's not going to happen, because...there is someone who loves you, and someone...who wants to touch every part of you." 

"Really. Because if there is, I sure haven't met her." 

"No, it's not a her, Jim. It's, um. Me." 

"Sandburg..." Jim sighed again, heavily, and let his head fall forward. He stayed there a few minutes breathing deeply, trying to relax the tension from his neck. He began to plan his speech of protest, but it wouldn't quite come together. Before he could say anything, a warm hand came down on the back of his neck, rubbing with just the right amount of pressure to clear his mind. 

He ended up not saying a word. 

* * *

He didn't need words, though, because soon they were upstairs and Blair was saying it all, giving instructions on what to take off and where to put it, where to position himself on the bed so that he could "get the best view possible of the sexiest man alive," which made Jim blush and try to cover himself. Blair didn't let him. 

He wasn't even very turned on, his half-hard penises lying nervously against his thigh, because surely any moment Blair was going to come to his senses and realize that this was definitely not what he'd wanted. Jim shivered under the intensity of Blair's fevered attention. He couldn't believe that he was letting Blair do this, but he understood why. After remaining untouched for so long, he couldn't resist the temptation of finding out whether perhaps...somehow...Blair had been telling the truth. 

When Blair joined him on the bed, naked as well, and for one sharp, bitter moment, Jim was struck with envy for the younger man's completely average, _single_ erect penis. There was no way that anyone had ever laughed at Sandburg's tool; no, he probably got compliments and begging for more, more, more! Then Blair's lovely, flushed face was coming toward him. 

"What are you doing?" he asked, drawing back against the mound of pillows that Blair had piled for him. 

Blair smirked. "Kissing you." 

Kiss Blair? "Um. Chief, I don't know." 

"I do." And then his mouth was covered with a warm mouth that tasted like any arousal that he'd ever tasted, only better because it was Blair and for once, he was merely anxious rather than petrified about his bedmate's reaction to his abnormality. It did feel good, he had to admit. No jittery pre-nudity explanation to worry about, just the wet slide of Blair's lips on his and the unfamiliar sensation of two strong thighs straddling his hips. 

Still, despite the unusual ease that he felt, there was still the apprehension that was now ingrained in this act. He closed his eyes, trying to remember that this was Blair, who would never hurt him. 

"Relax," Blair whispered, dragging his mouth down, across the column of Jim's neck to suck and nibble at the collarbone. "You're nervous, you don't have to be. Not with me." 

But Jim couldn't quite relax. Blair sat back on his heels and rubbed circles on the smoothness of Jim's chest, thinking. Jim wasn't going to loosen up until the unspoken issue was addressed, so he busied Jim's mouth with his own again and slid a questing hand between them. 

"Blair..." Jim struggled halfheartedly, out of habit, but relented when talented hands began pulling threads of arousal from both of his erections. "Blair," he repeated, then, "Yes. Yes..." No one had ever known what to do with his body, no one but Blair, who was a hands-on learner. He explored and experimented, doing all the things to Jim's body that he did himself, alone at night. 

For once it wasn't like someone was doing him a favor by acting like everything was normal, because no one could fake the kind of enthusiasm that Blair gave to the task. Not with Blair's open-mouthed, eager kisses and the rasp of overexcited breathing, or especially, the wet, sticky place where Blair rocked his own erection against Jim's leg. 

"What do you like?" Blair murmured against his cheek, the wisps of breath sending a delicious pack of shivers down Jim's neck. _Please tell me,_ he begged silently. He could make Jim feel so good if he were only allowed. 

"I like..." Jim whispered back, then paused to return to Blair's mouth. Blair couldn't help but notice that Jim was desperate for kisses, hungry for that act that seemed more intimate than even sex. 

"What?" Blair prompted. "Do you want to fuck me? It's all right, you know... Do you want my mouth?" Only because he was paying such close attention to his friend's reactions did he catch the nearly imperceptible hitch in Jim's labored breathing. 

"What, my mouth? I'd love to suck you," Blair offered, and he meant it, was barely able to suppress the extent of his enthusiasm. He didn't wait for an answer, just began trailing his kisses lower and lower, until he felt the muscles of Jim's stomach trembling against his lips. 

Jim's back arched, his hands flexed impatiently, wanting more but asking was out of the question. This was a lesson learned early in his life; never, ever ask. It baffled and frustrated him at times, because instinctually, he knew that between lovers, asking was wanted, accepted; deserved. Somehow, though, his abnormality precluded any entitlements to pleasure that he had foolishly dreamed of. 

Blair didn't know how crazy he was driving him; how could Blair know that this was a first for Jim, the first time anyone had gone done this to him, ever? He couldn't blame them, not even Carolyn, because his deformity was intimidating enough without people worrying about putting them in their _mouth_. 

He'd thought about it, though. Especially Blair. Ever since Blair had begun to show an interest in his body, he'd imagined that maybe... 

And his fantasies weren't based on foolishness for once. Blair. The first person to have enough genuine passion to think nothing of lowering his head and sucking the heads of both penises into his mouth, all the while making soft sounds of appreciation. 

Jim lay unmoving, dying with need but not wanting to risk doing anything that might cause Blair to stop what he was doing. The kiss-softened lips were stretched wide, and a tender tongue lapped at the edges of first one head, then the other. Wet, pliant heat swept over hot spot after hot spot, and then a gentle suck. Blair moaned, triggering Jim's own sound of helpless pleasure. It hadn't ever been like this before; why did it have to be Blair! It wasn't fair, Jim thought wildly, that the one person who could love him this way happened to be, as a lover, a complete impossibility. 

"Blair," he said again, feeling an unwanted stab of emotion that he did not understand. His hands slid into masses of tousled curls. "Yes." 

It was all he could say. 

* * *

Blair liked to be held close after sex, Jim discovered. He draped himself over Jim's chest and with contented sighing, slid his legs along Jim's until they were in a tangle of nakedness. 

"So," Blair finally said, tracing the contours of Jim's chest with light fingers. Jim had been quiet ever since they'd fallen back onto the bed, satisfied and sleepy. "Was it...I mean, did you. Shit, Jim." _Did I make you feel better than they did? Did you feel how much I want you?_ Why was it so hard to say the things that he felt? 

It was the perfect opportunity for Jim to make fun of him, but he remained silent; they both remained silent, and after a few minutes of listening to the soothing in-out in-out of one another's breathing, Jim gave something of an answer. 

"No one's ever done that before." 

Blair lifted his head, his damp cheek peeling stickily from Jim's chest. "Done what?" He asked, his forehead wrinkling in confusion. 

"Made me, uh. Both, at the same time. It's...unbelievable." 

Blair scrunched his face up even more, trying to understand what Jim was saying until he had a flash of what had happened while they'd been making love. He'd been holding Jim's cocks in his hand, sucking as best as he could, rubbing with his tongue as much as his hand and lips, only wanting to bring Jim pleasure, when Jim had jerked beneath him. Before he knew what was happening, both cocks were pulsing in his hand, spilling hot semen into his mouth, over his lips while Jim gasped out ragged breaths. 

And Blair's name. 

"Oh," he replied, then, "Really? That's...wow. Pretty intense, huh?" 

"Yeah." 

"I guess that means it was good, then," Blair said, and yawned widely, lowering his head to rest on Jim's stomach once again. "For me, too," he said as his eyes flickered closed. 

Jim petted Blair's curls. "I don't understand why you're doing this," he said slowly, and felt Blair smile against him. 

"Yes you do." 

"I don't, Sandburg. I mean, shit. Women- who are supposed to like cock- cringe away from me. And you- who are supposed to be my best friend and have absolutely no interest in my cock, just came on my leg after sucking both of my dicks like they were candy. What's the difference?" 

Languidly, Blair stretched against his friend, one hand sliding up to explore gently between his legs, cupping his balls and letting two fingers wander behind them. "The difference," he purred, "Is that I've wanted to get my mouth on you for longer than I can remember. The fact that you're made a little differently is just a bonus." 

"Anything else?" Jim had tightened his hands in Blair's hair and spread his legs apart, letting Blair tease him more deeply. Blair could do anything to him, he thought. Anything, and it would feel so good because of the sweet words that Blair liked to whisper to him. 

"Jim..." Blair raised his face to look at Jim, pushing a slick finger into him, and it felt like love, like ownership and acceptance. "Are you trying to get me to say that I love you?" 

"No," he gasped, unafraid to make eye contact with a lover for the first time in his life. "But I think you just did." 

* * *

End pas de deux by Knot: untietheknot001@yahoo.com  
Author and story notes above.

  
Disclaimer: _The Sentinel_ is owned etc. by Pet Fly, Inc. These pages and the stories on them are not meant to infringe on, nor are they endorsed by, Pet Fly, Inc. and Paramount. 


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